Wind – ウインド
by Pulchra Stellam
Summary: They say wind can bring about change...perhaps she can be the wind that brings change to this world. She was given a second chance, a second life, and she was going to make best of it. Even if her name happened to be Konan. Reincarnation!Konan SI
1. Chapter 1

**EDIT: Changed some things because I didn't like the way the timeline would have worked out.**

A/N: I was inspired by the first Naruto ending Wind – **ウイン****ド ****to write this, if you couldn't tell from the title. At first I considered using it was the inspiration for a Tsunade Reincarnation, but this seemed to make more sense to me.**

**I don't own Naruto.**

Wind – ウインド

**/-*-*-*-*-\**

_**They say the wind can bring change…**_

**/-*-*-*-*-\**

When it happened, it had been sudden, unexpected, and above all – tragic. And when I say 'it' I'm referring to my death. And how could a fifteen year old dying by falling off a porch not be seen as tragic – or pitiful; it depended on how one looked at it.

Admittedly, it had been a bad idea on our half. Playing tag and not limiting where one could run to, that is. I'd ran up onto the porch, tripped on a step, and had fallen into a weak portion of railing that sent me falling headfirst to the ground that was roughly ten feet away.

Not a good height to fall from headfirst, or in general.

I distinctly remember feeling the searing, numbing pain and hearing the crack as my head hit the rocky ground. Then I was suddenly cold and drifting, then there was warmth. A cramped warmth that was oddly comforting.

The amount of time I spent in that warm place was unknown to me, but when that warmth was disturbed and I was being pushed and squeezed and suddenly so, so cold, I knew what had just happened.

I'd been born again.

Just that thought brought upon the whimpers and whines and eventually cries you'd expect from a baby.

The arms I'd been passed to cradled me, and from the feminine tone of the cooing I could only guess it was my mother.

Even as my mind was stressing and freaking and slowly fading to black I managed to catch one word repeated over and over –

Konan.

My name?

**/-*-*-*-*-\**

Over the next year I found my conscience fading in and out, only remaining for a day or so every week. Perhaps it was a defense mechanism to keep my older mind from destroying the delicate child's mind and brain I now had. But now it seemed my mind was here to stay, to see and take in everything.

With how my mother was cooing at me – and from the small, recollections of words and sound gained while I was floating – and the one finger she had held up momentarily, I guessed it was my birthday.

Once again, like when I was first born, I picked up on that word – my name – Konan.

It was familiar that name, achingly familiar.

And suddenly I realized, the mirror mother sat me in front of while brushing through my short baby hair revealed all to me.

Short blue hair, wide and disbelieving amber eyes, and the name Konan.

Dear god. Why? How?

I was Konan.

Konan, the origami master.

Konan, the future war orphan.

Konan, the future friend of Nagato and Yahiko.

Konan, the future student of Jiraiya.

Konan, the future Akatsuki member and "God's Angel".

My bottom lip popped out and trembled, halting my mother's ministrations with my hair. The pressure of knowledge and destiny pressed down on me and I _bawled_. Because _ohdeargod_ I didn't want this.

**/-*-*-*-*-\**

My first birthday nearly a year ago had ended in disaster, as I'd been a bawling mess all day. It was something I felt bad about even now, what with the distressed and harrowed looks that had never left their faces until I cried myself to sleep that very night. The next morning I had woken up feeling numb and I had effectively pushed my realizations to the back of my mind because –

Because _I couldn't handle it_.

I wasn't sure I could handle it now, seeing as I was furiously and agitatedly chewing on a wet cloth. A wet cloth because it was all I had. In fact, it was the same one I'd apparently used during my teething time. Now I used it because I had developed a habit of biting and chewing on things when I got anxious.

My poor parents probably never expected to have such an odd child – hell, I'd never expected to be a child again.

Did that make us even?

"Konan, dear," Mother looked tired – her blue hair limp and face older than it should be as she picked me up, "Lunch time, come now."

"Mmkay mama," I burbled around my cloth, only setting it aside once she'd set me down in front of my food.

Food that was… rather pathetic compared to what I remembered and probably compared to what other villages had, and we weren't even in a war right now.

Even without wartime Amegakure was a rough place to live, what with being in such a spot that we'd be affected by wars even if we didn't participate in them. Not to mention the civil war that would go on during my lifetime as well.

My life was already being torn and pushed apart – first by my father being pulled and sent out on more an more dangerous missions, and another time because our income had taken a hit and we'd had to move into a house that was smaller and in the slum because my parents couldn't afford the taxes Hanzō had started pushing forward.

Hanzō was a bastard, a bastard that would end up killing Yahiko. The man that ultimately spurred Nagato's state of mind.

I didn't _want_ that. I didn't want anything to do with the stealing of the tailed beasts or Tobito or Madara.

I wanted change – I so desperately wanted change.

But could I change anything? Could I save Yahiko? Would saving Yahiko make things worse in the end, or would things be better?

My mind roiled and my two year old body protested with a yawn, tired from the amount of thinking I'd been doing. It was with numb taste buds that I ate what I was given, though the food probably would have been bland and tasteless anyways.

The question I'd been asking was could I change things. What I needed to ask was would I be able to bring myself to do it.

_I can._ My small hand tightened around my bent and dented fork. _I can and will. I'll try my best._

**/-*-*-*-*-\**

…**perhaps I can be the wind that changes something.**

**/-*-*-*-*-\**

**I really hope to make the future chapters longer than this, but I thought this was an appropriate place to end for now.**


	2. Chapter 2

**Wind – ****ウイン****ド**

**/-*-*-*-*-\**

_**They say the wind can bring change…**_

**/-*-*-*-*-\**

Living in the slums was not fun. I could attest for that and I was only three, and hardly ever taken out of the house unless there was no other place for me to go – which there wasn't. Everyone in the slums has to work for the basic necessities, so completely trusting a neighbor with your child was out of the question.

It was hard as hell for my parents, seeing as both were technically ninja. My father had been accounted for and sent off, coming back with a new scar each time.

Scars that weren't always physical.

Mother had stayed as low key as possible, not wanting to risk both of them being ordered out with me still much too young to properly defend myself. I was fairly certain she henged every time she went out, and I was also pretty sure that if Hanzō found out she'd be in a shit ton of trouble.

But, I figured, it was better than me dying or being sold off because a neighbor wanted money.

While in the slums I'd seen more than I needed too through our cracked windows, such as a mugging gone wrong in a small, dirty alley across the street. I still distinctly remember mother's pale face as she yanked me away from the window.

But it was too late – I'd already seen the blood splatter against the walls and ground as the attacker shuffled through the dead man's belongings.

Another thing I saw just this morning was a ninja, walking up a wall and bounding from roof top to roof top. This flipped a switch in my head and _ohmygosh_ that was right –

This was the world of _Naruto_. There was _chakra_. _I_ had _chakra_.

As if it was waiting for me to realize that, my chakra started humming and tickling my coils. I was sure my eyes were wide with curiosity and amazement as I lifted my hands and _pushed_. It tickled slightly and burned at the sudden force, but my chakra moved to my hands, causing them to glow slightly before quickly fading as I was unable to hold or control it.

A loud crack sounded across the room and I looked over, startled, to see my mother. Her face was taut and paler than usual, her eyes on my hands and the pot in her hands slightly cracked.

"I suppose," her voice, like her face, was taut, "Konan-chan wants to be a shinobi?"

My lips parted slightly and my amber eyes moved to my now clenched hands before moving to meet my mother's –

"Not for _him_."

And just like that she understood; knew exactly who _he_ was. How could she not? He'd caused so much suffering already.

**/-*-*-*-*-\**

**One Year Later**

**/-*-*-*-*-\**

I hadn't known when exactly it started, or when exactly it ended, or how long it lasted. But it was here, it was here and tearing my life apart more than ever. That damned Second Shinobi World War.

Father had been sent out to fight, against Konoha, against whomever Hanzō saw as our enemies.

The other thing that took a hit was our quality of life. It had quite literally gone to hell. Food was even scarcer than before, and the lack of sustenance was taking a toll on my mother. All because she was doing what any good mother would do – she was giving me almost all of it. Allowing herself to slowly starve because she wanted me to _live_.

My heart and mind were battling, the former saying _she's your mother and she's dying for you_ and the latter screaming that _you have to live, this woman gave you life, now save yourself and then worry about it_.

So I shoved it back, I shoved it all back and occupied myself with making a piece of paper stick to my hand in an effort to work on chakra control with my tiny reserves. And, considering the kekkei genkai I knew Konan to have, it was slightly easier than I thought it was going to me to make the paper to stick. It probably would have been more prudent to use a feather or a leaf, but where was I going to get a feather? And mother wouldn't let me wander out into the streets of the slum to find a leaf.

Suddenly there was knock on the front door, one that rattled it so hard I was afraid it might collapse.

"Stay to the side, Konan-chan," mother muttered as she moved to answer the door, standing just so I would be hidden behind her form.

"Yes," her voice was tense as she cracked open the door, revealing a man wearing a Rain headband, "What is it?"

The man's voice was bland, indifferent, "Your husband was killed on duty. An honorable death."

He left it that, after handing her a blood stained headband. Mother's face morphed several times in the course of seconds – from horror, to a blank look, sadness, and to grief. And then she sunk to the floor with a solid 'thump' and tears started falling, plinking faintly against the metal plate and filling the grooves that were our village's symbol.

My own body seemed to freeze; my heart and mind once again in a sort of conflict.

My heart was twisting, writhing and screaming that _you should be bawling your eyes out, that's your father – your blood_.

On the other hand my mind was roiling, hissing – _more will die like him, your mother will die; she did in the show, it's sad but they make no difference in this world_.

So I pushed it back, like I'd just pushed it back when I started getting conflicting thoughts about my mother starving herself. That didn't mean I was a complete and utter heartless bitch though; I couldn't do _nothing_ for my mother.

"Mama," I moved forward to grip her sleeve, "It'll be okay. Konan is still here."

She sobbed, letting the headband clatter to the floor so she could properly embrace me, "Yes, my little one. And I'll make sure you _stay_ here."

Mother pulled back, her eyes rimmed red and searching, "I can just tell you're destined for great things, little one."

Oh, you had no idea mother. But great isn't exactly the word I would use. It could be though, if I managed to change things.

**/-*-*-*-*-\**

**A year and a half later**

**/-*-*-*-*-\**

By this time my mother's face was slightly sunken and her body weaker; I myself was probably a little underweight, but mother had made sure I was healthy. She'd also made sure I was better equipped to defend myself.

As a shinobi she knew jutsu and therefore hand signs, so she taught me a little game that would both help my finger dexterity and help me learn the signs.

"What about chakra though, mother," my amber eyes searcher her blue ones, my four year old face filled with curiosity, "I have to learn to control it, right?"

Her lips thinned, "I… not yet, Konan-chan."

"But why?" Even I could hear how indignant I was; she was teaching me hand signs, why not help me with the chakra control I'd been trying to develop on my own.

"I can't risk… If Hanzō's men found out…" she wet her lips and shook her head, "You need to stop practicing on your own too, Konan-chan –"

At this, I exploded. She'd been all for teaching me hand signs, probably so I'd work my way to be defending myself in the future. So this was so _unfair_!

"No, mother! I have to learn!" With that I threw my arms into the air and literally exploded.

Well, my arms did.

One second my arms had been whole, then they had burst apart into swirls of paper – leaving both my mother and myself stunned. I knew that I'd be able to do that eventually, but it was just so sudden. And felt so odd. Like my arms were still there, but my reach had extended somehow.

It wasn't until my heartbeat calmed that the paper fluttered back together to reform my arms, leaving mother paler than I thought possible.

Her hands gently gripped my shoulders –

"You can't, absolutely can't let anyone know you can do that. People… people won't be nice about it, dear. You'll be in serious danger."

I could only nod numbly, as I already knew that. If my memory served right it was around the time of this war that people began to seriously hate those with kekkei genkai. I'd known already that I'd have to be discreet until I'd found Yahiko and Nagato.

"I suppose," Mother choked out, "I should teach you some chakra control. So…so that doesn't happen again."

**/-*-*-*-*-\**

**Several months later**

**/-*-*-*-*-\**

It was time – time for one of the very things I'd been anticipating. Hanzō's men had ousted my mother and were demanding that she join the war efforts, much to her chagrin. And, admittedly, my own.

"But my daughter," despite her weakened state, mother was standing firm, "She can't feed and protect herself!"

One of the men sneered, his hand on his katana, "We don't _care_, you foolish woman. It's your _duty_ to fight for Lord Hanzō."

My heart sunk and the drizzle began to get heavier; I knew that look – the one that had just crossed my mother's face. Stubborn defiance, pure and simple. But she was too weak to beat them; too hungry. And what I saw was much worse than the mugging those years ago.

Partly because it was my mother, partly because it wasn't blurred by shadows or a cracked window.

The man with the katana lashed out before mother could even make one hand sign and blood gushed and spurted as she fell limply back to the ground, her body squelching as it hit the mud. My mouth dried and my eyes fuzzed over as I saw the brown, muddy water bleed a darker red-brown.

I couldn't take it anymore. I couldn't just stare, so –

I ran.

I ran and cried, everything that I'd pushed back spilled over and my tears mixed with the rain as I ran into the trees. I was barely five now, how could a five year old survive on her own?

"Ooof!"

The mud squelched as I hit the ground, a groan coming from the person I'd apparently plowed into. My eyes widened –

_Yahiko_.

"Oh, hey there," the orange haired boy gave me a smile.

_That was right_.

"Are you alright?" He questioned, his face slightly concerned. It turned to a panicked frown as my lower lip trembled, "O-oh, hey, it's all cool!"

_Yahiko would cart me along_.

My short blue hair smacked my face as I shook my head, "Mother is gone. So is dad. I – I'm alone."

"No. No you're not." Yahiko grabbed my hands and yanked me up, "You've got me now, and I've got you. Not alone. Never alone."

_Yahiko and I…we'd help each other_.

He grinned as I nodded, "So, what's my new friend's name? I'm Yahiko!"

"Konan."

_And later, I'd help Yahiko_.

**/-*-*-*-*-\**

…_**perhaps I can be the wind that changes something.**_

**/-*-*-*-*-\**

**Note: I'm just going to say Yahiko and Nagato will be around two years older than Konan in this, so Yahiko is seven right now, or maybe a few months away from being seven.**


End file.
